


Fortune Teller

by ghostburr



Category: Amrev - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6177268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostburr/pseuds/ghostburr





	Fortune Teller

Alexander leaned forward in his seat, prepared for another enlightening conversation.

“Alright, alright, alright,” a loud shout, a laugh from the corner of the tavern, and several men’s cheering catcalls interrupted him, “I’ll humor you tonight, you imbecile.” 

He lifted a glass, toasted the man with the black eyes across from him.  “I’ll humor you in this ridiculous venture. Who is it you’ve got to tell me about?”

The general’s cheeks, alight with mirth and spirits, were plump and rosy, his face spreading into a grin. He sipped his wine—third glass, noted Aaron—and placed it down, unsteadily, again. Behind him roared a glowing fire. Aaron finished his own drink in a gulp.

“An astrologer!” The colonel raised a finger. “In my travels today, I met an astrologer, who said she would read our fortunes.”

At this, Alexander collapsed into giggles again, his small body hunched over the splintered wood of the old table. The mass of sweating bodies at the far end of the room coaxed a barmaid over to their group, and demanded more beer. The room, cast in orange by the light of the hearth, spun dizzily.

“Are you out of your mind? I’m not mingling with fortune-tellers!” A fiddler struck up a tune, drowning out the boorish catcalls of the other men, and Aaron’s face lit up

“You will come with me, you promised,” he almost pouted, “It is my birthday, and you promised.”

Alexander covered his face and laughed. “I should like more wine.”

The colonel stood up, brushed his vest off, and held out a hand to the blushing Nevisian.

“Let’s go.”

“I told you, I need more wine before I agree to this childish—“

As the fiddler increased the pace of his tune, Aaron found himself reaching out to the man below him, still seated, ushering him to his feet. He grasped the warm hands, and pulled him into a dance.  
“Colonel, in the name of all that is holy,” Alexander tilted his head back and laughed, letting his partner spin him to the inarticulate tune of the violin. He inhaled sharply, breathless.

“You owe me a dance,” Aaron grabbed the small of his back and laughed into his shoulder, “Don’t make a fool of me. Now dance. I know you know how, I’ve seen you do it.” As the song dipped and swung, and the partners matched the beat, Aaron maneuvered them towards the door, eventually spinning his friend into the street with a shriek of drunken glee. Alexander caught himself on a wooded post nearby and collapsed into laughter once again.

“That was magnificent!” He felt his bottom go numb at the touch of the frozen ground, and then, “You left my overcoat in there!”

“I shall buy you a new one,” Aaron sang out into the darkened February sky, white breath mingling with the stars. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the general chuckle.

“I think my derriere is frozen to the ground.”

_“Diable!”_

“Come help me up. Come pry my ass from the earth.”

Aaron bent over and walked, hunch-backed and grinning, to where his friend sat. From inside the tavern, the men began singing an old war ballad, and Alexander’s face lit up again.

“I love this song! Let me back in!”

“I thought your bottom was frozen to the ground?” Aaron dropped to his knees beside his cohort and slid a hand deftly underneath the seat of the general’s pants, who, at the touch, shrieked into the night. In the next instant, he sprung up, hair askew.

“You!” Alexander pushed his partner to the side, blushing and snickering. Aaron toppled to the side, back splaying against the earth. He closed his eyes and caught his breath, residual giggles coming out in delicate puffs.

“I was only trying to help,” he managed.  “You shouldn’t be so mean to me on my birthday.”

“I want to go back inside and sing! It is too cold out here!”

At this, Aaron sprung to his feet and wrapped his arms around the other man before he could wriggle free.

“Are you going to behave yourself?” He murmured, smiling. Alexander stretched his neck out, calling into the night for help, mouth open in a toothy smile.

“Unhand me!”

“I want to take you to my astrologer.” Aaron spun him around, boots skidding on a small patch of ice. The Nevisian giggled louder.

“You’re going to make me vomit, you fool, stop spinning me!”

The colonel stopped and steadied himself, loosening his grip. In a flash, Alexander broke free from the arms of his captor and swung, hitting him deftly in the arm. Aaron stepped back, mouth opened in a mock oh of insult.

“On this most special of days, you hit me?”  

Alexander laughed and struck again, missing his target and swearing. Several of the tavern patrons stumbled out into the night, singing and muttering to themselves.

“You want to brawl in the street like a couple of old drunks?” The colonel ducked to avoid another swing, his voice echoing off the frozen building around them.

“Take me to your damn astrologer already! She will probably rob me blind!”

Aaron reached out and clung to his compatriot again, dragging him closer to feel body warmth, and stepped steadily towards the darkened street.

“I’m freezing!”

“Hush, we must be quiet or we’ll give ourselves away.”

As the pair trudged dutifully down the street, they came upon a dingy house, lit from inside.

“You cannot be serious—“

“—This is the address.” Aaron let go of his companion and peered into the grimy window, standing on his tip-toes. The general watched him with a cynical grin. A sign, indicating a fortune teller resided within, swung haplessly in the midnight breeze. The colonel indicated towards his companion to follow him inside.Immediately they were greeted with the thick scent of incense and smoke, and Alexander coughed extravagantly.

“Colonel Burr,” he whined, waving a hand in his face. Aaron held up his hand to silence him.

“Hello? Madame?” He called, stepping inside further and relishing in the warmth of the fire at the corner of the small room. From the ceiling hung strands of herbs—lavender, the general noticed to himself—and in the center of the room a single table. In a moment, a tiny old woman emerged from a closet holding a stack of books.

“May I help you gentlemen?” Her voice creaked, like an old floorboard, and Aaron bowed lightly, causing his companion to do the same.

“Excuse us for intruding, Madame,” he began, “but I was told  I could have my fortune told, here, and it is my birthday, you see—“

Aaron’s thoughts, swimming in alcohol, garbled in his mind.  The tiny old women dropped her books on a small end stand near her and clasped her hands in delight.

“An Aquarius, eh?” She grinned, her eyes wrinkling spectacularly. Aaron shifted his weight as she raised a gnarled finger, “I know your types. Cerebral. Above metaphysics. What are you doing here, when you do this type of thing so rarely, gracing me with your presence?”

Alexander scoffed at his side and she fixed her wizened gaze on him.

“I was merely curious, Madame, I—“

“—You have a natural curiosity. I know, I know.” She waved a bangled wrist and indicated for the two men to be seated. Grunting, she seated herself opposite them. Alexander shrank under her focus, nervous.

“And you are?”

“Alexander Hamilton.”

“Your sign, your sign!” She widened her eyes, a toothless grin playing on her lips.

“Capricorn.” He felt himself frown, the effects of the spirits of earlier rapidly being chased away by the cloying thickness of the incense. The tiny old woman laughed—small, clinking, like a bell.

“Someone must have put you two up to this. No self respecting Saturnalian gentlemen such as yourselves would willingly find themselves in the presence of a fortune-teller,” she finished with a wry grin. “I should expect you both to be occupied with much more important things.”

She reached behind her and pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment, upon which was inscribed a blank wheel. In the next movement, she picked up her quill, and wrote something down.

Alexander cleared his throat, “Well, you see, we are—“

“—Something involving the government.”

The Nevisian shut his mouth and blushed. The tiny old woman pressed on as if she hadn’t seen.

“Yes, yes, yes. Aquarius and Capricorn, the two fathers of the zodiac, I like to say” she muttered madly to herself as she drew a series of small shapes on her chart. Aaron craned his neck and looked on with mild interest. “Always called to be in positions of authority. It happens naturally, you see, with Saturn.”

“Now, my handsome lad,” she looked up into the peering blackness of the colonel’s eyes, “Give me your hand.”

Aaron did as he was told; next to him, Alexander crossed his arms.

“Ever the cynic, you are, you Goat, ” the fortune-teller narrowed her eyes at the general, still gripping in her claws the colonel’s fingers. She looked down and touched a finger to his palm.

“Long life—“ she stopped short, furrowing her brows.

Aaron couldn’t help himself, “—Long life? And?”

She shook her head, and finished softly, “It will come at a tremendous price. Oh, my, a terrible price.”

The colonel pulled his hand back, slightly perturbed, “What do you mean, ‘a terrible price’? Be more specific.”

The wizened old lady crinkled her nose and rubbed a ring on her finger. “I shan’t continue unless you two promise to open your minds,” she added knowingly, “as hard as it is for your types. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, the both of you. Now, Capricorn, keeper of the banks, where is my money?”

At the sudden change of thought, Alexander broke from his glazed stare at the fire in the corner and felt the woman’s gaze.

“I—what?”

“You Goats understand nothing if you don’t understand commerce and money. Where is mine?” She held out a wrinkled hand expectantly. Aaron nudged the Nevisian, who dug into his pockets with an exasperated sigh. At the sight of her payment, the fortune-teller cackled.

“Banker!”

“I’m rather well known, Madame,” Alexander responded, piqued, “it’s not a stretch to think you might have heard my name—“

“—Very good, very good.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I haven’t the slightest interest in how important you are, Mr. Goat.”

Aaron raised a hand slightly, “Madame, you were saying, about me,” he offered his palm.

The fortune-teller’s demeanor changed quickly as she pocketed her funds. She looked at the outstretched palm, inhaled, and then grabbed it again.

“A long life, at the expense of others,” she pressed on. Instantly she looked towards the general. “How old are you?”

“I turned twenty-eight last month, Madame, you should know,” he replied.

“And you?” She turned towards Aaron.

“Twenty-Nine, today.”

“Your friendship won’t last the decade,” she finished simply, dropping Aaron’s hand with a slight thud. A shadow passed across her eyes and she lowered her gaze to the parchment in front of her.

“Frankly I find it astounding how you two have managed this long.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Alexander cut in, agitated. “Forgive me, Madame, but you hardly know us. You look at this gentleman’s palm and suddenly you know all of our secrets.”  
She grabbed the general’s warm hand and held it close to her face.

“Short life. Violent death.” She spat. Alexander yanked his palm away.

“I knew this was a mistake, Colonel Burr,” he began, looking at his companion, who had turned slightly pale.

“Burr? Burr?” The old lady perked up, “Surely not the Edwards-Burrs?”

Aaron resisted a roll of his eyes, “The same, Madame.”

“What has that got to do with anything?” Alexander interjected, exasperated.

“And you said—“ she looked at the Nevisian once again, “—you called yourself—“

“—I called myself Alexander Hamilton,” his patience grew thin, “I am a writer and a statesman and I—“

 

The tiny old woman cut him off a second time with a shrill cry of glee, a secret thought playing across her features. She leaned back, “What luck!” She scooted her chair closer to the two confused men.

“You two are going to have fun,” she whispered mysteriously, “what a treat the planets have cooked up for me tonight. What a treat to behold. How beautifully our stars brew our destinies, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t know if I believe in destiny, Madame,” Aaron spoke in low tones, still mulling over his palm reading. Next to him, Alexander fidgeted in his chair, unwillingly curious.

“What…what do you mean, ‘short life, violent death’?” He hid his fear behind anger. He watched as the old woman stood up from his chair and grabbed a book from her shelf. Opening it, she plopped down on her seat again and heaved a dramatic sigh.

“Saturn…” She flipped a page, “…The father of the Gods. And only one of you will be a father of the nation.” The fortune-teller talked to herself, giggled like a small girl, and turned another page, “How magnificently tragic. Superb!”

The colonel drew in a sharp breath and Alexander watched him, “Madame, please do not make jokes at our expense. Explain yourself.”

“Saturn devoured his children, you know. Drove them into the sea. Drove them mad.”

“Madame, that is not humorous.” It was Alexander’s turn to speak.  

The tiny old lady flashed another toothless grin at the general, who recoiled at her obvious pleasure in bringing chaos to the minds of the two men present.

“Those who were once in the shadows will be brought to the highest eminence, and those who will tumble into nothingness will sit and pine for the exalted rank of their ancestors.” She slammed the book shut and Aaron wished the effects of the wine had not worn off. “Timeless and ageless Saturn. Timeless and ageless,” she looked at each man in turn, “it is said that Capricorn grows young, rather than old, and Aquarius is most comfortable in the oblivion. “

“Make yourself clear,” Aaron demanded, “Or we shall take our money back and leave.”

“And you will pour and pour and pour,” she taunted the colonel, “and to no avail. Your friends will abandon you, and you will keep pouring. Your family, your dignity, and you will pour and pour and pour—“

The general slammed a fist on the table, “Stop this nonsense at once!”

The frail old woman silenced Alexander with a burning gaze, “You will climb to the top of the mountain only to see how desolate it is. You will realize that to go any higher you will have to climb to heaven itself. You will slaughter yourself in agony.”

The fortune-teller looked down at the parchment and crumbled it, her two patrons watching her every move with dark fascination and anger. Alexander swallowed and spoke first, “You are a charlatan,

Madame. A curiosity for the weak-of-mind to gawk at.”

The old lady laughed, “Tread carefully, my handsome lads.”

Alexander tugged at his neck tie, “We will tread however we want to tread.”

“Your mouth will be your downfall,” she pointed at him again. “Your brilliance is at once your greatest strength and greatest weakness. Mark my words.” In the next breath, she was smiling again, covering her mouth as if laughing at a joke.

Aaron leaned forward, “Madame? Nothing here is particularly humorous.”

“And your silence will be yours,” she placed both hands on the table and looked at the colonel, “How cruel the spirits are.”

“I have heard enough!” The two other occupants looked over at the general. “Colonel, I should like to leave now, if you don’t mind. It has become obvious to me, as it should to you, that this woman takes pleasure in casting doubt on the ways of Providence, and is an agent of—“

“—You needn’t finish your thought,” Aaron cut him off, silencing him.

At this, the fortune teller clapped with glee. “Very good. Very good. You are learning.”

“I mean to say,” Aaron continued, teeth bared, “that I would like to leave as well.”

The black-eyed colonel rose from his seat and motioned for Alexander to do the same. With one last toothless grin, the fortune-teller eyed them both.

“You cannot fight fate,” she began slowly, “and it is folly to even try.”

Alexander stood and the room spun.


End file.
